Date: Mon, 11 Nov 2002 19:51:17 -0500
From: Jim Reeve
Subject: Forbidden Love: Chapter One
The characters in this story are based on true people, but thier sexuality
is not to be judged by this story. As usual, if you aren't over 18, you
have no business reading this. enjoy.
Ryan sat in his science class, tuning out, his thoughts drifted away from
the present into a place of no worry and no care. This place was simply the
life he used to live, a past without awareness, when feelings were simple
and normal.
Days like these Ryan wished he could slip back into his not-so-long past
routine. It was simple. He thought about the things boys were supposed to
think about, and he never had to recall the way things were years ago. He
remembered sitting at the pizza parlor with his large group of friends
talking about Lydia Clay, the goddess of the school, and her "banging body".
But soon these thoughts changed.
For the months leading up to Ryan's 13th birthday he noticed his peeks at
the boys in the locker room, and the models on the Abercrombie bags were
starting to lead to embarrassing things, and he wondered about them. Looking
back on it, he thought he was aware since these feelings started of what
they would lead to, but he wouldn't let them come out, he couldn't admit it.
Soon his cramming of these emotions was hopeless. His futile attempts led to
frustration and hatred, and soon he gave in. He remembered the first time he
said to himself:
"I'm a fag." He had said it, and now he frowned upon himself.
"A fag?!?" Ryan truly hated the term FAG and decided using it to describe
himself was merely from his homophobic environment.
When things first changed, Ryan had difficulty coping with it. He had
trouble talking to his friends, and they drifted away from each other. He
couldn't help his feelings, but every time he looked into the eyes of a guy,
his cheeks turned red and his words got mixed up. Soon enough he got used to
this, and he was back on track, but friendless from his previous behavior,
it would be difficult for him to fall into a group, and he wasn't entirely
sure he wanted to.
Ryan had a terrible yearning to tell his mother of his discoveries, for he
loved her very much, but since she became a Christian she was enveloped in
the church, and Ryan knew very well that her church had no place for a fag.
He constantly received unwanted sermons and lectures, and she almost
demanded he "receive Christ." Deep thinking like this often led to something
he hated, but constantly replayed in his mind, it was the leaving of his
father. This scene often replayed itself as he drove home in his old Mazda
626...
He remembered the day quite clearly.
***********************************************************************
"Eric, please," His mother would cry as Ryan sat on the couch, his face
dampened with tears.
"Not in front of Ryan! We can talk about this later!"
At this remark Eric's face swelled up like a red balloon.
"Oh yeah! All you care about is this damn baby!" He screamed "Why the hell
did I marry you?!? All you talk about is Ryan, you never have time to give
me what I want! You don't worry about ME anymore!"
"Eric, I've given up on you, I don't care what you do you bastard! I'm sick
of your drinking and spending our much-needed money on whores and beer!
Don't think I don't know! We're out of here!"
Eric, in a drunken state, was enraged to hear she was leaving. He took a
sharp swing at her face. She winced in pain as she scooped Ryan up and faced
her husband. Her cold pale hand smacked into his cheek and she rushed out
the rusty door and the stench of the smelly apartment, contaminated with
booze. It was the last time she would have to shut him out. These fights
didn't start out so violently, but they escalated along with Eric's
drinking, and they were very soon out of hand. The bruises they left on
Ryan's heart were more strenuous than the bruises on his skin.
***********************************************************************
The eye in Ryan's mind skipped forth to a time with more happiness. This
event did not stick out like the other, but it was there nonetheless. His
mother had just returned from church. Ryan sat in his play-pen, cooing for
her. He was only 4 at the time, but he was articulate and sweet hearted for
his age. He was never selfish nor greedy, and always loved his mother
deeply. His mother excused the babysitter, and headed towards her son. He
climbed out of his play-pen and rushed towards her. He pranced into her open
arms. Suddenly, from her mouth poured words of God, of Jesus, of love, and
of forgiveness. For hours she infiltrated his brain with words that he was
far from understanding, but he beamed to see her so happy.
"I am happy for you mommy." He cooed, "I hope God and Jesus love you like I
do." His smile spread wide across his face.
A tear came to his mother's face.
"You're going to be a wonderful husband," She told him, hugging him tight.
Ryan put an odd look on his face.
"Well," he said, "I don't know what a husband is, but I hope I'm as you
are."
Her eyes filled with tears a she hugged him tighter yet, and she rocked him
to sleep.
***********************************************************************
As Ryan pulled into the driveway and climbed out of the car he told himself
it was these events that beat him into the shy loving boy he was today.
Another memory came...
***********************************************************************
On his eighth birthday Ryan sat alone on his porch watching the sun sink low
under the horizon. Tears rolling down his cheek showed he was crying. He
stood up after some time and headed in, it was nearly dark. He plopped onto
the couch near the hearth and cried hard into the pillow.
"She's not coming, Nana." He told his nanny,
"She missed my birthday." He sniffled lightly, wiping away his tears.
"Maybe she'll be home tomorrow, but it doesn't matter, she doesn't love me."
His nanny sat down, stroking his back. She looked perplexed at his last
comment.
"Oh no boy." She told him, shaking a bony finger in his face, "Praise God,
for she does love ya. She's a burstin' with joy ev'ry time she sees ya walk
through th' door. That'd be why she's always on the travel. She's providin'
for ya, and she does love ya dearly me boy."
Ryan had then stood and departed to his room. It was his first birthday
alone, but not his first in despair.
***********************************************************************
As he approaches the front door he thought about his mother. He hoped she
was alright. (It seemed as if his day moved in slow motion.) She had been
over worked since she left her husband, and she kept on going. All her time
was devoted to Ryan, Church, or work. After a day of juggling these things,
plus cooking and cleaning, she had no time but to head to bed. Her life was
crazy, almost like a pinball machine. Life for her was like pinball, trying
desperately to reach a place where she could stop moving, but when she got
close to the hole in the bottom of the machine, she was thrown, by the
flippers, back into crazy chaos.
He stepped into his small home, sensing something not right. There was a
burned pan of food in the sink, obviously left un attended. His mother was
at the table, her eyes glazed over, a sad expression on her face.
"What's up?" He asked.
She didn't respond. He approached her and bent over to view what she was
reading. He saw the untidy scribble across the page of a once blank book.
His heart froze with fear as he began to read from the page.
Today in the locker room
I saw a wonderful sight. My
eyes had been glued to Brent
the super hot popular kid, and
covering his intimate places was
a towel. Only a towel. He is spoiled
and rich, but standing there half-
naked in front of me he was more
than that. His chest and abs were
tight with muscle, and they were
covered in sweat. I longed to hold him close to my bare
body as well, but I couldn't expect
that to happen.
Her eyes read over the pages of Ryan's journal with disgust. She knew, it
was over. Ryan began to fill with anger.
"What the hell is this?!?" he screamed. "What the fuck are you doing!"
"Ryan, this, this is strictly against the Bible, I-I can--"
"Shut the hell up! I don't give a damn!
How could you do this? You-you just went into my things!" He quickly
gathered his books and ran to his room, slamming the door behind him. He
threw his face onto a pillow and cried hard. How could he let this happen?
His whole world was crashing down.
Not long after, there was a rapping at the door.
"Ryan, gather your things, we are going to see the Reverend!"
"Fuck the Reverend, I'm not coming out!"
He was so upset, he didn't care what she said. He ignored her following
lecture through the door, and showed his disrespect by playing loud music
that filled his ears, she was shut out. The singer on the radio sang of
love, and he thought of Brent. He wanted to be with him, to see him like no
one else would, to share their most private things with each other, but that
would never happen. His feelings or Brent were strictly those of lust,
nothing more.
That night, a frightening dream woke him from his sleep. It had been one of
his parents' fights. His mother had dove over his body and taken a brutal
hit from his father. The weapon was a broken whiskey bottle, and she was
badly hurt.
Ryan sat up in bed, his wonderful body glistening in the moonlight, sweat
shimmering on his pecks, abdomen and from there came into view his cock.
Four soft inches of beauty, surrounded by brown pubic hair wi a sex thin
trail of pubes leadin from belly button to dick. Now sweat doated, and
soft, he looked beautiful, and a single bead of sweat dripped from his cut
head. He sat up and put on a pair of boxer briefs, and headed towards the
window in an attempt to cool down. He grabbed a piece of clothing from the
floor and wiped off his sweat. Then, he slipped on pants and a tee shirt
and headed to his mother's room.
He pulled up a chair and sat, watching her sleep. He brushed her hair off
her face. She seemed innocent, almost angelic under the moonlight, and
opened her eyes. She sat up and profusely apologized for her reactions. She
hugged him tight, and they exchanged more apologies. After several minutes
of this, Ryan headed to back to bed, much relieved. He once again removed
his shirt, pants, and briefs and lay naked on the top of his bed hoping to
cool down. He slept soundly the rest of the night.
I hope to be posting the following chapters shortly. Email me and tell me
what you think, If i get enough responses I will have the next chapter up.
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.
Email: SenorJota2006@hotmail.com
SN: Senor Jota2006 (@hotmail.com) (AOL IM or MSN MESSANGER)